Second Chances
by EGB Fan
Summary: Peter grows anxious when a death brings Oscar's estranged father to New York.


_Ghostbusters:_ **Second Chances**

**Manhattan, New York: Summer 1984**

Dana Barrett didn't always see eye-to-eye with her mother, but Valerie Barrett always came through for her in times of crisis. Dana felt immensely relieved to open the front door and see her mother standing out in the hallway, wearing one of her no-nonsense-I'm-here-to-sort-you-out expressions.

"Ah Mom," sighed Dana, throwing her arms around her mother's neck. "Where's Dad?"

"I sent him to the café down the street," Val replied shortly.

"Why? What's he done?"

"Don't be silly, darling." She let herself in and made for the kitchen, where she started officiously moving cups around and switched the kettle on. "Now then. What's this tizzy you've gotten yourself into?"

"It's Andre," Dana confessed. "You remember you told me to try dating him again?"

"Of course I remember, darling. I hope you've been taking my advice."

"Oh I have," Dana nodded, firmly and hurriedly. "You were right about him being more… _committed_ than Peter – I think that was the word you used. But something doesn't feel right."

"Why ever not? He treats you well, doesn't he?" demanded Val.

"Well yes."

"And you still share the same interests and have plenty to talk about and you enjoy spending time with him."

"Sure, but - "

"And his face doesn't curdle the milk – and the last time I talked to him he seemed very keen."

"Oh yes," Dana smiled dryly. "He is _very _keen."

"Well then what's the problem?" Val asked impatiently.

"I don't know," Dana replied weakly. "There just seems to be something _missing_. With Peter - "

"You know as well as I do that you are well rid of that Venkman boy," her mother interrupted. "He is crass and vulgar and his tastes and yours really don't meet. You're much better off with Andre, darling. You're more suited to each other – you know – _intellectually_."

Dana longed to say, _"If you love Andre so much, why don't _you_ go out with him?"_

"And you're not getting any younger, darling," Val continued, with a smile that she seemed to hope might soften the impact of these words.

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't take that tone with your mother, dear."

"But I just wonder if breaking up with Peter was such a good idea. He practically _begged _me to give him another chance. Maybe if I called him and - "

"No!" Val exclaimed in alarm. "One chance only, darling, remember. If they need a second chance they're not worth it."

"But Mom, I think I still love him."

"You _don't_ still love him, darling. Trust me on that."

_Why did I even ask you here? _"I went out with Andre a couple of times before I met Peter. Isn't that what I'm doing now: giving him a second chance?"

"Andre didn't blow his first chance, did he, dear. It was you and all this 'just friends' nonsense."

"Well, we're good friends," reasoned Dana. "I don't want to jeopardise that."

"Your father and I have been good friends since childhood," retorted Val. "And we're still married."

"Ah jeez, you want me to _marry _him?"

"Well dear, as far as I can see, what it boils down to is this: Peter had no staying power and Andre does. May I tell you something, Dana?"

"I don't know," Dana replied warily. "Will I like it?"

"I certainly hope so, darling," Val smiled happily. "I talked to Andre the other day, and he left me thinking that marriage might very well be on the cards."

"Oh my God!" Dana was surprised by the force of her own reaction.

"Isn't that lovely, darling?"

"I need to talk to Peter."

"Dana Barrett, if you so much as _look_ at that telephone I shall cut the wire."

"Oh this is silly." Dana forced herself to calm down. "I'll wait until he asks me before I get into a state about it."

"My dear, he's ideal marriage material," Val was adamant. "Imagine how talented your children would be."

"Children? Wow…"

"I very much hope that I can expect grandchildren from you someday, Dana." She made it sound like an order.

"So do I. I just thought they'd be Venkmans rather than Wallances."

"Call your ex and tell him that," challenged Val. "See how fast he runs. And as I say, you're not - "

"I'm not getting any younger – I _know_!" snapped Dana. "Wow. Well, you've certainly given me something else to think about. Thanks for that."

"Moms know best, darling. Well, now that's out of the way – tea or coffee?"

x x x

**New York: Autumn 2005**

Oscar Wallance was amazed when he answered the phone to his estranged father. School had finished a few hours ago: it was now six o'clock. It must be eleven o'clock at night in London, where Andre was. What could be so important? Oscar soon found out, because Andre delivered the grim news quickly and efficiently: he'd just heard that his mother had suffered a stroke.

"Oh," was the best Oscar could do at first. "Man… I'm sorry."

"I'm getting a flight out there first thing tomorrow morning," Andre told him. "And I'm bringing Hayden."

"Why?" asked Oscar. "Doesn't he have school and stuff?"

"Yes, but they're letting him go for this. I asked all three of the kids if they wanted to come with me. This is their last chance to see her. She's eighty-four, Oscar – she _is_ going to die."

"Right." _What a dumb thing to say_.

"I'm glad Emilia decided to stay home – it would only upset her. And Lars too, maybe. I don't know about Hayden, but it has to be his decision. Kate doesn't want him to go but he's said he wants to see her, so we have to let him."

"What about you?" Oscar heard himself asking, which came as a surprise. He was feeling a concern for Andre that he had never felt for him before in his life. "Are _you_ ok?"

"I don't know," Andre confessed. "I won't know until I get there – and then I guess I'll _have_ to be ok for Hayden's sake."

"Poor kid," Oscar sympathised. "None of them have ever been through anything like this before, have they? Neither have I…" he added thoughtfully, as though only just realising it. Or maybe he was only just realising that _he_ was going to have to go through this as well. "Can I go with you to see her?"

"Of course you can." Andre sounded strangely touched. "She'd love that."

"I don't go and see her nearly enough…"

"Oscar, please, do not start feeling guilty. _I_ feel guilty for emigrating. Even Kate feels guilty for keeping me in England. It happens when people die, or so I'm told. But you're seventeen and you have a life, and she just wasn't a big part of it. You have nothing to feel bad about."

"I can't really help it, Andre."

"No, neither can I."

"I'm really sorry," Oscar said again. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Well you're coming with us to see her, aren't you?" reasoned Andre. "Although actually… I may need you to take care of Hayden for me. He'll be bound to feel homesick and… well, he's been having a few problems anyway and I don't think I've been dealing with them very well."

"What kind of problems?" Oscar asked, concerned.

"I don't know," Andre admitted, sounding suddenly very anxious. "He doesn't really talk to me much. But look, you'll see him tomorrow. You can talk to him about it."

"Yeah, I guess. Listen, I'll meet you at the airport tomorrow. What time?"

"I don't know – as soon as we can get a flight. I'll call you when we get there – we'll go straight to the hospital after you've found us. Ok?"

"Ok."

Oscar felt strangely melancholy for the rest of the evening, not just because his grandmother was dying but also because he started thinking about the futility of life in general. He had watched _A Night to Remember_ with his younger sister a few days ago, which didn't help. Damn White Star Line skimping on the lifeboats… He also got to thinking about his would-be step-grandmother dying years before he was born, long before her time. It was all so depressing.

Obviously Dana knew Elizabeth Wallance very well, as she had been her daughter-in-law for a good three years. Oscar told her about the phone call from Andre as soon as they had a moment away from Peter and Jessica, Dana's husband and daughter.

"Poor Andre," Dana sympathised. "Poor kids. I ought to call Mom and tell her."

"Call Grandma? Why?" asked Oscar.

"She and Elizabeth were best friends once upon a time," Dana told him. "You should have seen them at the wedding – they were all over each other. Things went kind of sour when Elizabeth accused Mom of driving her son out of the country, but if she's – well…"

"Dying?" Oscar suggested helpfully.

"Then Mom will want to know," Dana finished. Then she put an arm around her son's shoulders and asked, "How do _you _feel about it, honey?"

Oscar was surprised to hear himself echoing Andre's answer to that very question: "I don't know." Then he took a deep breath and went on, "It was so weird when we were talking on the phone. I actually – well – _felt_ something, if you see what I mean. I felt sorry for Andre… and it seemed like he really wanted to talk to me. He seemed – I don't know – _genuine_, I guess. Am I making any sense?"

"Kind of," Dana smiled at him. "It's really sad how some families only ever come together at times of crisis. Remember Andre's mother is dying, and you_ are_ his son."

"I still didn't feel like his son, but it _was _different. It's kinda hard to explain."

"Obviously."

"Tomorrow Andre and Hayden are going to see her in the hospital. I've told them I'll go with them."

"Ah honey." She pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. "I'll call the school and tell them."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Will you be ok?"

"I don't know."

x x x

It's a difficult odour to describe, but all you really need to say is "hospital" and almost everyone can instantly call the smell to mind. For Oscar it immediately brought back memories of when Jessica was born. That had been a pretty good day overall, although he_ had_ come across a dying woman. He remembered how alone she looked; she'd told him she didn't get many visitors. His eyes welled with tears just thinking about her.

The smell was so intrusive. It just wouldn't leave no matter how many corners they turned. Oscar thought he could detect a few distinct odours in there: metal, vomit, urine, blood, cheap cleaning chemicals and latex. He held his breath for a few moments and looked down at Hayden, his eleven-year-old half-brother. The kid looked pale (though perhaps no more than usual – Oscar couldn't quite tell) and a little scared. Oscar knew that Hayden must have been inside a hospital at least twice before when his younger brother and sister were born. Their previous experiences of hospitals were probably fairly similar, but it seemed unlikely that Hayden too had come across a dying elderly woman. Oscar at least had that to prepare him.

They finally arrived at the ward they wanted, the smell lingering in their nostrils as they walked quickly between the rows of beds. The beds all contained elderly people in various stages of deterioration. A couple of them looked comatose. One woman was attached to a drip and her mouth twitched continuously. Another sat up in bed reading a newspaper and eating an orange.

Oscar tried to remember the last time he had seen his paternal grandmother. _Too long_, he decided in the end. Looking down at her, her eyes half-shut and numerous wires protruding from her arms and face, the guilt overwhelmed him. _I should have gone to visit more often. I should have called at least once a week. I should have…_

"Mom?" Andre ventured timidly.

Elizabeth Wallance turned her head slowly but didn't open her eyes. "William?" she asked.

"No Mom, it's Andre."

"Andre, of course. That brother of yours hasn't come to see me yet."

"I know. I called him yesterday. He'll be here as soon as he can."

Oscar looked at Hayden. He was just staring at their grandmother, his brow furrowed and his eyes sad. Andre suddenly turned to look at them; he must have seen how upset the younger son was because he put a hand on his shoulder. Oscar somehow sensed Hayden tensing up, and he wondered what the hell was going on there.

"I was telling Elspeth about it the other day," Elizabeth was rambling, the words clear enough though quite slurred, as her mouth was paralysed on the left hand side. "The trains out there make so much noise you wouldn't believe it."

Hayden looked away and stared fixedly at the ground. He knew who Elspeth was: she had been the mother of an old school friend of Elizabeth's, and had died over twenty years ago. And they were nowhere near a railway line. Who knew where that stuff about trains was coming from?

"Who else is there?" asked Elizabeth.

"Oscar and Hayden," Andre replied calmly. "I'm sorry – I had to leave Lars and Emilia at home with Kate. But they all send their love," he added.

"Good," Elizabeth nodded approvingly. "Are you all right, Hayden?"

Hayden looked up sharply, unable to speak for a very long moment. Then he said, in a choked voice, "_I'm_ all right."

"You're not," Elizabeth disagreed. She still didn't look at any of them – she obviously couldn't. "You shouldn't bring children into a place like this, Andre."

"I asked to come," Hayden told her quietly.

"Well I'm glad you did, dear. And you, Oscar," said Elizabeth, suddenly thrusting out a wizened old hand. "Where are you, dear?"

Though it didn't feel exactly reassuring, Oscar stepped forward and took the old woman's hand. She always did have a strong grip, and he felt painful pressure on his fingers as she squeezed tightly and said, "It was sweet of you to come to see me, Oscar. I wouldn't want… I've been wanting to see you again."

He barely knew her, but Oscar felt tears pricking the backs of his eyes. There was that guilt again, a thousand times worse with the impact of Elizabeth's words. He could feel Hayden's eyes on them, and then suddenly no longer as the boy turned his head towards the window.

"Oscar, for goodness' sake take your brother out of here," ordered Elizabeth. "Thank you both for coming, boys. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Hayden answered hoarsely, feeling certain that this would be the last chance he had to say it. Then suddenly he felt hands on his shoulders. He continued to look at his feet as he was steered out into the corridor and towards the exit.

x x x

"I didn't know what to expect," Hayden confided to Oscar, as they swirled straws around a couple of Cokes in the hospital canteen. "I hoped it wouldn't be that bad."

"So did I," Oscar said grimly.

"It was horrible," Hayden went on. "And weird. She… she's totally lost her marbles. But she still knew who we were."

"Even me." He couldn't help saying it – he just felt _so_ guilty.

"And she knew what Dad was talking about when he mentioned the family. And she remembered William and… and she could _tell_ that I was having a hard time dealing with it. That was why she made you take me out. But she couldn't even look at us. And… and she's gone completely _mad_! Do you _know _who Elspeth is?"

"Yes. I guess family's the last thing anybody forgets. She loves you."

"She loves _you_," countered Hayden.

"I know," Oscar sighed deeply. "I feel really bad. She was living right on my doorstep but she's much closer to you than she is to me."

"We're much closer to _Dad_ than you are," Hayden pointed out. "Her son walked out on you and your mum, remember – there was no reason for you to have anything to do with her if you didn't want to."

"Hayd, you were really freaking out in there," Oscar said gently. "Are you gonna be ok?"

"I don't know," Hayden admitted. "I've never gone through anything like this before."

"Me neither. So… what about the rest of your life?" Oscar asked carefully. "You and your dad seemed a little weird with each other."

"Oscar, can we not talk about that now?" Hayden said quietly, suddenly looking, to his companion, extremely tired.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

"I don't think I really thought this through. I'm missing Mum already."

"If you hadn't come you might have regretted it," reasoned Oscar.

"I s'pose," Hayden shrugged resignedly. "It's just not a nice feeling being this far from home with just Dad, especially with all the… aw, I'll tell you about it later."

"Ok," Oscar said carefully, wondering what on earth could be the matter with him. "Any idea how long you'll be here?"

Hayden just shook his head.

"Well, I'll take care of you. You know you can talk to me about anything."

Hayden managed a weak smile. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Andre gave me his cell phone as we left 'in case anything happens'," Oscar went on, whipping a small silver phone out of his jeans pocket. "Do you wanna call Kate?"

"Yes, I do," Hayden answered at once. Then he looked vaguely around him and asked, "Are we allowed to use it in the canteen?"

"I don't know," replied Oscar. "But these Cokes are warm and flat by now so there's no point staying here. Let's take it out to the parking lot just to be on the safe side."

x x x

Hayden wouldn't talk to anyone about these mysterious "problems" while his grandmother was still alive. Over the next few days he became increasingly distant and subdued, and his father and half-brother both became increasingly worried about him. It wasn't until the end of the week that Andre's younger brother William was able to leave San Francisco to come and say his goodbyes to his mother, who was keeping her entire family hovering by getting neither worse nor better.

"Can you please take Hayden for the afternoon?" Andre asked Oscar over the phone, on the Saturday morning. "William and I are going to talk about… you know… funerals and things," he whispered furtively.

Of course Oscar agreed to take Hayden into his home. He went through the motions first, politely asking the permission of his mother and stepfather to receive a visitor, secure in the knowledge that they couldn't very well refuse. He then had a little chat with Jessica in the ten minutes before Hayden was expected to arrive.

"You _have_ to be nice to him."

"I'm not gonna be bitch to someone whose grandmother is dying, am I?" snapped Jessica.

"You're being a bitch to _me_," retorted Oscar, who was getting slightly sick of having to make allowances for his twelve-year-old sister's extraordinarily apparent PMS.

"That's different. _You _don't care. You never used to have anything to do with the woman before she was dying."

"Jessica!"

She felt a fleeting moment of remorse at the hurt look on her brother's face. What she had said was quite true, but he knew it and she knew he knew it, and she also suspected that he didn't much want to be reminded. But on the other hand, she wasn't in the mood for making apologies.

"I'll just shut myself in my room then, shall I?" she said instead

"That might be best, if it's _such_ a struggle to exercise a little courtesy…"

"You're not even _trying_ to understand what this is like!"

"_My grandmother's dying_!"

"YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE HER!"

Their mother then appeared in the doorway, evidently having decided it was time to intervene, but they were interrupted by the doorbell. Dana shot both of her children a cut-it-out look and went to answer the door.

Jessica flounced out of the room and made her way upstairs, passing Peter on the landing. He felt slightly wounded when she didn't acknowledge him at all, but this feeling soon subsided to something faintly familiar, though with a renewed vigour when he saw his wife open the door to her ex-husband and greet him with a hug.

"Hi, Andre," Dana smiled sympathetically. "How are you feeling?"

Peter felt his fingers twitch with the desire to hit something… or more accurately some_one_. He counted to ten and then took a trip to the bathroom, where he had a little internal chat with himself. Dana still hadn't forgiven Andre for leaving her holding the baby, but the man's mother was dying – Peter _knew_ what that was like – and you'd have to make exceptions for the Devil himself if his mother was dying. And they _had_ been friends once upon a time – of course she was going to show him some sympathy. Honestly, it was fine. All perfectly normal and healthy.

When Peter made his way back downstairs Andre was still there, now hugging Hayden goodbye. Dana was hanging around in the hallway, obviously not sure whether or not her presence was appropriate, and Oscar had joined the little gathering by the front door. Peter found that he was strangely reassured by the amount of space between Oscar and his two estranged relatives.

But then, quite suddenly, Andre let Hayden go and took two steps towards Oscar. For Peter, the next few moments seemed to pass in slow motion. For Oscar, it was all over before he was even quite sure what was happening. He suddenly felt Andre's hands on his arms. He was pulled sharply forward, the unnerving sensation that he was falling driving his own hands instinctively to the nearest convenient object, which happened to be Andre's shoulders.

"Bye," Andre said quickly, releasing Oscar from the – _oh my goodness_ – hug and giving Hayden a kiss on the forehead before he left.

It would have been tough to decide whether Peter's reaction or Oscar's was the stronger. They were quite different: Oscar was shocked, confused and disbelieving; Peter was in equal parts jealous and angry. He instinctively shot a look at Dana, who just shrugged and disappeared back into the kitchen, where she was cleaning up after lunch. She had been surprised by Andre's actions, but she put it down to his current situation and she _did_ remember something that neither her husband nor her son did: the genuine hugs that Andre used to give Oscar before he had any more children, and before they'd had time to grow _so_ far apart.

Hayden was the only one with no opinion on the matter. He was much too distracted with… what the hell was it anyway? It _could _just be his grandmother's impending death, but Oscar didn't believe that for a moment – not with what he'd heard recently from both Andre and Hayden.

"Hey." He put a hand on his half-brother's shoulder and steered him gently into the sitting room. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Hayden looked blankly at him for a few moments before saying, "My grandmother's dying."

"Anything else?" Oscar asked gently.

Hayden's eyes fell to the ground as he mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Hayd, just because Elizabeth's dying doesn't mean you're not allowed to have problems."

Hayden's hurt and angry expression told Oscar in no uncertain terms that he had said totally the wrong thing. He made a mental note to kick himself later and then asked, "What do you feel like doing?"

"I haven't been to see her since that first time," Hayden blurted out.

"Well… that's ok," Oscar said slowly.

"No it's not!" Hayden objected loudly. "It's cowardly and… and _shallow_ to stay away just because I don't like seeing her like that!"

"Ok, calm down," soothed Oscar. "Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"

"Yes please," Hayden replied, much more quietly. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Oscar smiled reassuringly. "I'll just go ask Dad if we can borrow the car."

Truth be told, he felt pretty bad about that. He knew Peter wouldn't like him taking his precious car to visit Andre's mother, but he also knew that was petty and it certainly didn't take precedence over the needs of an unhappy eleven-year-old boy.

x x x

Oscar hadn't been to see Elizabeth since that first time either. A nurse at reception informed him that his grandmother had been moved; this time they had to take the elevator up three storeys and wander around until they found a helpful looking porter who directed them better than the written signs seemed to be doing. They both expected to find Elizabeth a great deal worse, and were surprised when she looked and sounded much the same as before.

However when they got talking to her, Oscar and Hayden both realised that something _was _different: her body may not have deteriorated, but her mind certainly had. Oscar noticed that Hayden's fists were clenched at his sides when Elizabeth informed them that she had asked to be moved because of the turkeys that looked through the window on the ground floor. She then claimed that one of Hayden's friends from his old school came to see her in the night. That was when Hayden had to leave.

It would be so much more bearable, Oscar was sure, if it wasn't for the smell. It was still there when they were climbing into the car, circling around both of their heads and snaking its way through their sinuses. By this time Oscar even fancied that he could taste it: the blood, the vomit, the urine, the cleaning chemicals, the metal… the latex made his throat feel dry.

"I wonder," Hayden ventured, slowly and quietly, "why she's taking so long."

"Do you wanna go home?" asked Oscar.

"If I say yes that'll sound like I want her to hurry up and die."

"No it won't. What you _want_ is for her to get better so you can go home."

Hayden looked at him sharply. "That's not going to happen."

"Everybody wants things that aren't going to happen. I wish you'd talk to me about it, Hayden."

"Why? You and I aren't even close."

_Ouch_. "You _know _you can always talk to me if you want to," Oscar reminded him.

"I know. I've just been having some problems at school, that's all, but they don't seem important now," said Hayden. "I don't want to worry about it until… until all this is over."

"Ok." Oscar pulled the car into gear and manoeuvred it out of the parking space.

"It feels so weird driving on the wrong side of the road," remarked Hayden.

Oscar felt ridiculously grateful to hear this. It meant that Hayden was acting more or less normal, at least for the time being. Oscar jumped at the opportunity to try and cheer the kid up a bit, immediately trying to name countries besides the UK where they drove on the left, and doing spectacularly badly.

"Most countries don't," Hayden told him. "It's just us and Australia and – I dunno – a couple of other places." By this time he was even smiling. It was such a relief.

x x x

In some ways, Jessica Venkman hadn't quite got beyond the mental age of about eight. In other ways, however, she was strangely mature and wise for her twelve years. Right now, as she sat on her bed reading an angsty teen novel, she was worried about the effects that Elizabeth Wallance's hospitalisation was having on her family.

Jessica, though hardly ever verbal about it, was extremely fond of her brother. Some of her friends had lost grandparents and she knew what a surprisingly wide range of emotions could ensue from such an event. She wondered which of them Oscar would experience, if any, when the time came. She then selfishly wondered how the Wallances' grief was going to impose on her own situation. It could totally upset things: if Dana wanted to lend moral support; if it made her and Andre friends again; if Oscar wanted to become closer to the Wallances… Peter was being affected already – that much was obvious. Jessica loved her father more than anything, and it angered her to think that he was being upset by those damn Wallances. Oh, how she loathed them…

The whole situation was just infuriating, and to top it off Jessica was now experiencing that familiar dull pain in the lowest part of her abdomen. That was good in a way – it meant that she'd soon be expelling an entire pool of unhappy hormones, either today or tomorrow, and she could stop feeling angry and miserable. It was kind of an early warning system, but did it really have to _hurt_? Well, there was only one solution: snacks, painkillers, a hot water bottle and _Some Like It Hot_.

The front door opened just as Jessica was popping two ibuprofen tablets. Moments later Hayden wandered into the kitchen, pushing back a lock of windswept blond hair as he walked. Jessica noticed that his hair had grown a bit since she last saw him, so that now it almost covered his ears. She thought it looked good, as did the loosely fitting jeans and grey sweater. And so did his brilliant blue eyes when he smiled at her for whatever reason. Perhaps grief and homesickness were driving him insane.

"Hi, Jess," Hayden greeted her. Then, as his eyes fell first upon the painkillers and then on the empty hot water bottle protruding from Daffy Duck's bisected back, he asked, "Are you ok?"

"Woman problems," answered Jessica.

"Oh." He looked embarrassed.

"It could be worse," she smiled sympathetically at him. "Hey, look – I'm just about to cheer myself up with a pizza and _Some Like It Hot_. Have you seen it?"

"Isn't that old and boring?" Hayden asked warily.

"Shut up – it's the funniest movie of all time."

"Who says?"

"Everyone," was the somewhat unconvincing answer. "C'mon – it cures anything, I promise you. I'll microwave you a pizza if you watch it with me."

"Now that _does_ sound good," Hayden had to admit.

He watched as she pulled a small pizza out of the fridge and stuffed it into the microwave. She then proceeded to open several cupboards, disappearing behind a curtain of dark curls every time she bent down, asking Hayden if he wanted any of whatever each cupboard's contents happened to be. In the end he found himself following Jessica upstairs with a pizza he might just manage and a can of Diet Coke, while she was laden down with a tray of snack food, two Coke cans _and_ the pizza.

"Are you into Marylyn Monroe?" asked Jessica, throwing the Daffy Duck hot water bottle down on the bed and then making for a shelf filled with DVDs.

_Actually, I think I prefer brunettes_. "Nah. She was a bit of a ditz from what I've seen of her," replied Hayden, gazing around in awe at the tip that was Jessica's bedroom. It must be _so_ refreshing to live like that!

"She totally was," agreed Jessica, feeding _Some Like It Hot_ to the DVD player. "But that's blondes for you."

"My mum's blond," Hayden reminded her.

"Yeah, well…" shrugged Jessica, leaving the unfavourable comment hanging in the air unsaid. She climbed gingerly onto the bed, the pain in her abdomen inhibiting her movements a great deal. She then stretched her jean-clad legs out in front of her and clutched Daffy Duck to her stomach, smiling encouragingly at Hayden as she said, "Come on – plenty of room."

There _wasn't_ plenty of room. It was a single bed, but Hayden did as he was told and sat next to Jessica on the crumpled Spiderman quilt cover. He felt very conscious that their hips and arms were touching, but Jessica didn't seem to notice or care. She simply crossed one leg over the other, selected _"Play Movie"_ from the menu on the TV screen and took a large, unladylike bite out of her pizza.

x x x

"I wouldn't worry about it, honey," advised Dana, as she searched the kitchen cupboards for something to serve for supper. "I imagine when your mother is dying you feel like hugging people. What the hell's happened to all the food?"

"But he's _never_ hugged me," argued Oscar.

"Well that's just not true," Dana told him. "He used to hug you when you were little. Only sometimes," she added, catching the dubious look on her son's face. "Like he hugged you at his wedding. Don't you remember?"

"I remember the wedding," replied Oscar. "I don't remember him hugging me."

"Well, you were almost asleep. What have you done with Hayden, anyway?"

"Well, I think – I _think_ – he's upstairs with Jess watching a movie."

Dana turned and stared at him in utter disbelief.

"I know," Oscar smiled dryly. "Mind you, I _did_ tell her to be nice to him, and the last time he was here they played rugby together in the backyard."

"They also had a blazing row," Dana pointed out.

"Well, there's still time."

"I talked to Mom while you and Hayden were at the hospital. She asked if there was any news on Elizabeth."

"There isn't. Not really. She's just a little crazier – she thinks turkeys have been looking at her through the window."

Dana gave a small squeak and stuffed a fist into her mouth.

"It's ok, you can laugh," Oscar smiled at her. In a way it was a relief that some small part of this whole fiasco might actually be in any way funny.

Dana shook her head. "Of course I can't, it's terrible," she protested. "Poor thing. How inappropriate would it be for me to visit her?"

"Do if you want to," advised Oscar. "You won't get another chance. Hey – do you hear that?"

"What?" asked Dana.

"Laughter."

"Oh. Yeah. I think you and I must have woken up in a parallel universe this morning, hon. First Andre outwardly displays some affection for you, and now Jessica's laughing with Hayden."

x x x

"I'm a _man_!" declared Jack Lemmon, dramatically tearing off his wig.

"Well, nobody's perfect."

It was the inane smile of contentment on his face as much as the line itself. Hayden and Jessica both burst out laughing, a lingering feeling of satisfaction washing over both of them as the credits started rolling. They collapsed into each other, both crying with laughter, which soon subsided into giggles as they started to recover.

"See?" Jessica smiled smugly, when her face had stopped hurting enough for her to talk. "Was that not the funniest movie of all time?"

"Maybe," replied Hayden, panting with the effort to get his breath back. "I had no _idea _old movies could be so good."

"I love old movies," Jessica told him. "They're better than modern movies: much more _subtle_. And at least Marylyn Monroe was a real-sized person. These days women don't get cast in Hollywood movies if they're much bigger than a pencil."

"I don't see the attraction of women like that," Hayden told her, his eyes flickering momentarily over Jessica's own generous curves. Well, generous for twelve years old at least. "You should try watching some British movies. They're much more _real _than all this Hollywood gaff, and they have normal looking actors."

"There's nothing real about Hollywood," remarked Jessica, getting up to retrieve her DVD. "I like living here much better."

"Didn't you like living in LA?"

"Not really."

"I don't like living in Chelsea much."

Jessica turned and looked at him in mild surprise. "No?"

"No," Hayden said adamantly. "The snob value around there is just ridiculous. I can't stand the neighbours – they think they're better than _everybody_, except possibly the Queen. And they don't like me because I've started dressing like a normal person and playing some different kinds of music and I'm growing my hair."

"Your neighbours don't like you because you're growing your hair?"

"Apparently long hair on boys is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate for _what_?" Jessica snorted derisively. "And if they think _your _hair is long they should see Oscar's. Sounds like they all need to get out more."

"They do," agreed Hayden. "Like beyond the Chelsea border. I hate my school too."

"You started new there this September, didn't you?"

Hayden nodded.

"What's wrong with it?"

"The place is caught in a time warp," Hayden told her. "They think it's the nineteen-bloody-twenties. There are no girls, for one thing, and there isn't even a rugby team." There wasn't much he enjoyed more than playing rugby. "I hate the whole damn lot of them and _they_ hate me."

"Have you told your parents?"

"Of course I bloody have, but Dad loves the damn place because they make us learn classical _sodding_ music and he says he won't move me yet because I haven't given it a chance. I heard him and Mum arguing about it. She wanted to take me straight out of there, but Dad wanted me to stick it out until July. In the end they came to one of their famous _compromises_ and Dad told me 'we'll talk about it again in the Christmas holidays'. I know what _that_ means. He's just so _controlling_ – I can't stand it!"

"Don't put up with it," advised Jessica. "If you really hate it that much you shouldn't have to go."

"I'm _not _going, am I?" Hayden pointed out. "I wanted to see Grandma again before she died, but I might not have had the guts to go through with it if I didn't hate school. I feel like I'm using her as an excuse to bunk off."

Jessica went to sit next to him on the bed and tried to reassure him. "Ah, hey, if you wanted to see her…"

"I know," Hayden sighed wearily. "But now I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't have come. I hate all this waiting around and I miss my mum. Mind you, nobody thought it would take this long…"

Jessica didn't know what to say.

"I can't _believe_ I've just been laughing my head off at _Some Like It Hot_ while she's dying in hospital."

"My dad says that when you're grieving, anything you can do to make yourself feel _any_ better is the right thing to do," said Jessica.

"I'm not really grieving," Hayden pointed out. "Not yet. Anyway, thanks for cheering me up. And for listening to me complain. I'm sorry – you've probably got problems of your own."

_Not really, no_."Don't sweat it."

It was around five thirty when Andre came to take Hayden back to their hotel. Jessica had apparently had enough snacks for the moment, but Oscar was feeling hungry and Hayden was refusing his offer of a sandwich when their father turned up. He was feeling pretty low again by this time, a classic moviein the company of a beautiful woman now a mere memory.

"How are you feeling?" Andre asked anxiously, when he saw Hayden. They were in the sitting room with Oscar; Peter, Dana and Jessica were all hovering within earshot.

"I'm all right," shrugged Hayden. "What did you and Uncle William talk about?"

"Um… you wouldn't be interested."

"The funeral?"

"Yes," Andre admitted.

"I'm not a little kid, Dad – you don't have to protect me," Hayden said scornfully.

"You're looking very pale," remarked Andre. Oscar thought Hayden looked more unusually tired than pale – he had fair skin anyway – but either way the point was that he didn't look well. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Three quarters of a pizza," Hayden told him. (Astonishingly Jessica had eaten the rest of it.) "I'm fine. None of us feels a-hundred percent at the moment."

"I'm worried about you," Andre persisted. "Will you please let me call your mother?"

Hayden shook his head. "Don't," he said simply. "She'll only worry."

"_I'm_ worried," Andre said again, his hand hovering around the pocket where he kept his cell phone. "If you'd just let me call - "

"NO!" Hayden suddenly yelled, his blue eyes flashing dangerously on the hand that was reaching for the cell phone. "DAD, YOU'RE NOT _LISTENING_ TO ME! YOU _NEVER_ LISTEN TO ME! I DO NOT WANT YOU TO CALL MUM!"

Oscar, at such close proximity, was surprised and alarmed by this sudden outburst. In the next room Peter and Dana were having similar reactions, and Jessica was surprised too, although she found herself smiling with a strange kind of pride at Hayden's newfound assertiveness.

Oscar looked over at Andre, who was just staring in mild surprise. His gaze was locked with Hayden's, the latter looking uncharacteristically angry and wearing a do-it-if-you-dare expression. Finally Andre held up both hands in a gesture of defeat and said coolly, "Ok."

Hayden immediately calmed down after that. "Thank you," he sighed with relief, going to sit on the sofa as though to recover from his violent onslaught.

Andre hesitated for a moment, took a few timid steps forward and finally crouched down on the floor, very close to his son, and took one of his hands. "Hayden," he ventured cautiously. "I'm sorry but we're going to have to go home this weekend. I can't spend much more time away from work."

Hayden, who had been staring fixedly at the ground and hiding his eyes behind strands of his hair, lifted his head and looked his father straight in the eye. After what had just happened, Oscar half expected another display of temper. However Hayden simply let out another deep sigh and said, "I thought we might. I know you've got work, and I've missed an awful lot of school."

"You don't have to go back to school yet if you're not ready," Andre told him.

Hayden pursed his lips together, took a few moments to think and then said, "I'll _never _be ready. I hate that bloody school, Dad."

"I know," his father nodded in acknowledgement. "But can we worry about that later?"

"Like after Grandma dies, you mean?"

"Hayden…"

"It's ok," Hayden interrupted. "You're right – we have to worry about her first. I didn't want to leave her like that, but I _will_ be glad to get home."

"Me too," Andre half-smiled. Then he stood up, turned to face his oldest son and said, "Oscar, thank you for looking after him."

"No problem," replied Oscar.

"I'm going to book a flight home, hopefully for tomorrow," Andre went on. "Shall we say goodbye now?"

"Might as well."

This time he was prepared for the possibility of a hug, and sure enough one came. It was no more comfortable than the last: it was very quick, executed before Oscar had a chance to opt out, and then just as suddenly Andre pulled away and acted like it hadn't happened.

"Come on, Hayden," he said briskly, making for the front door. "Thanks again, Oscar. I… expect we'll see you again before much longer."

_For the funeral_, Andre, Oscar and Hayden all added silently.

Oscar closed the front door on Andre and Hayden's retreating forms, and then turned to see Peter looking at him from the kitchen doorway. The first thing he sensed was an air of resentment surrounding his stepfather, which made him feel strangely angry.

"Don't look at me like that," Oscar said accusingly.

Peter held up his hands in a protestation of innocence. "Like what?" he asked.

"Like I'm cheating on you. I'm not your wife, and he _is_ my father."

Peter looked hurt.

"His mother's dying," added Oscar, suddenly feeling the need to justify his actions.

"No, you're right, he _is_ your father," Peter agreed, his eyes downcast. "It's up to you how you are with him."

"Ah Dad," sighed Oscar, instantly remorseful. "You _know_ I love you. And this isn't easy for any of us, ok? Andre and I haven't been close for seventeen years, but things are different now."

"Because his mother's dying?"

"Right."

_It happened to you_. They were both thinking it, but Oscar wasn't going to say it. Peter knew perfectly well that his mother was dead – he didn't need to be told. He also knew that Oscar was thinking it, and that he wondered why it didn't change his stepfather's feelings towards Andre.

"It's awful for him, but it doesn't change the way he treated you," reasoned Peter.

"What if he's sorry?" asked Oscar.

"Well, it's seventeen years too late, but _I'm_ only here because your mother gave me a second chance," replied Peter. "If you want to try again with him…"

"You'd hate it," Oscar finished for him, managing a small smile at last.

Peter looked relieved. "Well of _course _I'd hate it," he said emphatically. "I don't want to share you with him."

"And _I _don't want to share you with the mini-stiffs," added Jessica, suddenly appearing at Peter's side.

"What the hell happened anyway?" Oscar asked her, suddenly thinking of the shrieks of laughter coming from his sister's bedroom an hour or so earlier. "I've been trying to cheer him up all week."

"Well you were doing it all wrong," Jessica stated simply. "You were giving him all these doe-eyed looks and asking him how he was feeling and generally acting like the world was about to end. That's never gonna cheer _anybody_ up. Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in drag, on the other hand, works every time."

x x x

William Wallance called on Sunday evening to let Oscar know that Elizabeth had died. The first thing Oscar said in response was, "Are Andre and Hayden even home yet?" Their flight to Heathrow Airport had left a little over an hour ago.

"I called," replied William. "They're not. My mother always _did_ have an impeccable sense of timing."

"Kate'll break it to them, then?"

"I shouldn't think she'll forget to tell them something like that."

Oscar was grateful that he didn't have to deliver the news to Elizabeth's other son himself. Then he suddenly seemed to realise that William, whom he hardly knew, _was_ Elizabeth's son and had to be hurting.

"I'm sorry," Oscar said weakly. "Are you gonna be ok?"

"I'm going home to the family as soon as I've sorted out a few things here," William told him. "Andre said he'd help, and of course he _will_, but he can't do as much as I'd like him to while he's in England. He won't fly out here again before the funeral – he'll probably bring the whole family with him this time."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Oscar.

"There might be," replied William. "I don't really know yet. You don't have to help if you don't want to."

"I _do_ want to," Oscar returned emphatically. "I mean she _was_ my grandmother – I oughtta chip in and help, right?"

"If that's what you want."

Oscar thought that he detected a slight edge to William's voice, and he read all kinds of unpleasantness into it: _"You've only ever been a part of this family when it suited you. Where the hell have you been up until now, Oscar? We all know you didn't do enough for her when she was alive – this won't make a difference…"_

Oscar couldn't remember feeling this guilty in his life. Perhaps that was why he imagined all of those covert messages in his uncle's words. He didn't really know William, nor how he felt about Andre's situation. Still, Oscar supposed that was no reason to assume the man _wasn't _having a dig. He didn't know William, and equally William didn't know _him_. Maybe he'd heard all sorts of biased my-son-won't-have-anything-to-do-with-me sob stories from his brother. Or maybe not – it was just impossible to know.

"I'll help if you want me to." Oscar felt that he was hiding a few coded messages of his own: _"Your brother was the one who walked out on me, you know. I'll help you because I'm a nice guy and your mother's just died, but there's absolutely no reason why I should have to…"_ Wow – this was all getting pretty nasty, at least in Oscar's own thoroughly muddled mind.

"May I speak to your mother?" William requested.

"Sure."

Oscar found both of his parents in the sitting room, Peter staring immobile at a game of solitaire on the coffee table while Dana looked at a magazine with a ballpoint pen in her hand, presumably doing a crossword or something. Their son instantly realised that they had probably been listening to his conversation, inadvertently or otherwise. He briefly wondered where Jessica was, and then suddenly became aware of the sound of the shower running from upstairs. It could be worse, then – if any of them was going to give him a hard time about this it would be his candid little sister.

"Mom, that was William," he said coolly to Dana. "He wants to talk to you."

Dana looked thoroughly confused as she set down her magazine. She and William had got on ok when they were brother- and sister-in-law, but things had changed between them since then. Things had _really _changed. Oh well – only one way to find out what he wanted. She went, leaving Oscar alone with Peter.

"Will you look at me?" Oscar asked sharply.

Peter, surprised and confused by his stepson's tone of voice, looked obediently up at where Oscar was standing.

"I know why you're being weird," the teenager went on. "It's because of that scare I gave you in the summer when your old Shanna O'Callahan tape made me go crazy and I almost disowned you."

"Is it?" Peter asked innocently.

"_I _think so. It was so recent it's still fresh in your mind, and now you think something else has happened to jeopardise your relationship with me."

"And has it?"

"I knew it!" Oscar suddenly expostulated.

"Whoa, hey, calm down." Peter held up both hands in a calming gesture. "Oscar, the thing about Shanna is that she was just a voice on a cassette by the time she got to you, and before that she was a banshee. This is different. From a purely selfish point of view, it's much more dangerous for _me_. Andre can't manipulate your mind the way a demon can, and any decision you make about him will be your own because he's _real_."

"Yeah," agreed Oscar. "He's a real asshole. His mother's died, but that doesn't change how I feel about him _or_ you."

"I saw the way he was with you when he was here," Peter went on. "The moment he touched you my heart just seemed to deflate. You're right – I almost lost you in the summer. I don't want it to happen now."

"Dad," sighed Oscar, "you have to trust me. While I was staying in LA after the whole Shanna incident, I didn't think about Andre _once_. I thought about _you_ – about how much I might have hurt you. I love you, but I don't love Andre and he doesn't love me. It is just a funeral, ok?"

Peter furrowed his brow in thought as he asked, "Do you really think he doesn't love you?"

"Well of course he doesn't."

"Not at all?"

"He only hugged me because his mother was dying if _that's_ what you mean."

"Is that gonna be your excuse for everything he does?"

"Well… doesn't it make people do things they normally wouldn't?"

"Sure," shrugged Peter. "When it happened to me it made me and my dad much closer, because losing people makes you appreciate the ones that are left."

"Ah-ha," Oscar remarked dryly. "And for Andre that's me, is it?"

"It could be."

"Ok, look, I'll admit that I'm confused. Maybe Andre really _does_ want to try and get close to me, and life isn't gonna be easy for a week or two anyway with Elizabeth dead and a lot of raw emotions flying around. But when it comes to problems there's nobody better to help me than you and Mom… and Jess, in a weird sort of way. I'm gonna need all of you to help me deal with what's happening. Can you do that?"

"You know I'll try, Oscar."

"Good. Because I can tell you now that this being quietly jealous over the last week _didn't_ help."

"I'm sorry."

As Peter said this, Oscar felt strangely relieved, not only because he'd unloaded his mind onto his dad but also because it had just at that very moment sunk in that Elizabeth was dead. It was sad for her family, but it had to be better than her lying in that hospital getting increasingly worse and all of them _knowing_ that she wouldn't last much longer. It was over. Andre, Hayden, all of them could finally start grieving and then get on with their lives.

Oscar went to sit on the sofa next to Peter and leaned his head on his shoulder, asking rhetorically, "What's William talking to Mom about anyway?"

Dana didn't plan to tell Oscar that William had been bombarding her with totally inappropriate questions: was she planning to come to the funeral, if so was it out of guilt in which case don't bother; was she going to let Andre have some contact with his son at last, did she know how miserable she'd made his mother…

"What planet were you on while it was all happening?" Dana asked sharply. "Andre left _us_, you idiot! I don't care if you think it's all my fault, but if you go upsetting my son I'll make you very sorry. And… um… sorry about your mom."

After she hung up, Dana picked up the phone again immediately. Her mother had been plaguing her all week for news on Elizabeth's condition. As she hit a button on the speed dial pad, Dana flashed a smile at Jessica, who was strolling happily down the stairs after her shower. She was wearing tracksuit trousers and a loose-fitting white t-shirt with a few spots of damp on it where her hair was dripping.

"Hey," Jessica smiled pleasantly, as she wandered into the sitting room and threw herself onto the sofa beside her father, sandwiching him between herself and Oscar. "What's happening?"

"Elizabeth died," Oscar told her.

"Oh." She too leaned her head on Peter's shoulder.

"You don't care, do you?" Oscar said dryly.

"Well, why should I?" demanded Jessica.

"No reason at all."

"How do _you_ feel?" Peter suddenly asked Oscar.

"Guilty," he answered at once.

"_Guilty_?" Jessica lifted her damp head from Peter's shoulder and looked at her brother sharply. "Why?"

"Oh… because I was a bad grandson, basically," Oscar shrugged dismissively. "But it doesn't really matter how _I_ feel. I feel sorry for the kids, especially Hayden. He came all this way to be with her and she waited until he'd gone before she died."

"Yeah…" murmured Jessica, suddenly visualising the look of resigned sorrow on Hayden's face when he'd told her about how unhappy he was at school.

"They probably don't even know yet," Oscar went on. "William said he called and told Kate, but Andre and Hayden weren't home yet. And Lars and Emi are probably asleep – they won't know until morning."

Jessica's expression darkened. Much as she hated to admit it, she was warming up to Hayden, but she still loathed Lars and Emilia. And their mother as well, come to that. Then suddenly a thought occurred to her and she asked, "Will I have to see them?"

"You might get away with avoiding them," replied Oscar. "It all depends on when and where they're gonna be hanging around."

x x x

Jessica's hopes of not seeing the Wallances were cruelly dashed when William called again on Wednesday afternoon. It was Peter's turn to cook, and he was preparing supper while Dana and Jessica played Scrabble at the kitchen table and they all chatted easily. Then suddenly Oscar wandered into the room looking positively mortified and said, "I am so sorry, guys."

"Why?" Dana demanded sharply.

"Honestly, I don't know how it happened." Oscar shook his head despairingly. "We're hosting the wake."

Truth be told, Oscar knew _exactly _how it happened: it was a guilt trip, plain and simple. According to William, Andre had insisted that the funeral take place in New York so that Oscar could attend – he'd probably want to, and anyway the kids would need him for moral support and of course Andre wanted his oldest child with him for his mother's wake. William had been quite prepared to make the arrangements for the body to be moved to San Francisco, where he and his family were living – but oh no, the funeral had to be in New York _because of Oscar_. That meant that William would have to pay travel fees for his entire family, and with the expense of hiring a venue blah blah blah… Looking back on their conversation, Oscar realised that it was obvious how it happened. He almost wished Jessica had taken the call. She would never have fallen for it.

x x x

"Do you know what he said to me?" Peter confided to his friend Egon Spengler, watching as the scientist kept half of his concentration on the puddle of something under his microscope. "He said he's not my wife and he's not cheating on me."

"Well, I happen to agree with Oscar on that one, Peter," Egon deadpanned.

"Oh I know," Peter nodded. "And that's why it's so utterly _ridiculous _that I feel this way. Whenever I close my eyes all I can see is that asshole with his grubby hands all over my son…"

"His mother was dying."

"That's his excuse for everything!"

Egon looked up from his microscope and said reasonably, "It's a good excuse, Peter. I remember well when _your_ mother was dying. You felt more for your father then than I think you ever did before. I suppose in a way your situation with Charlie then was comparable to Oscar's situation with Andre now."

"That doesn't help, Egon."

"That's not to say that the outcome will be the same. I've realised that emotions work quite differently from science, except possibly chaos theory – the end result is different every time. If Oscar says he feels nothing for Andre, I'd believe him. And he loves _you_, Peter. He calls you Dad. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"I _know_ all of that," Peter muttered irritably. "I just can't help it. Oscar's such a nice guy – if Andre wants a second chance he might get one. And he might not blow it this time, and then what? I'd lose my son."

"Peter," Egon said sternly. "You will never lose that boy. Genetics means that Andre created half of Oscar, they share the same DNA and Oscar inherited his eyes. And that's _all_ it means. Take it from someone who was never close to his own father."

"I think I know how I must be making Oscar feel," mused Peter. "He did this to _me_ a little over twelve years ago. When Dana was pregnant with Jess, Oscar was absolutely convinced that I would love her more than I loved him. After she was born and he realised that things hadn't really changed between him and me, we made a deal: he promised not to be jealous of Jess if I stopped being jealous of Andre."

"Actually," Egon said matter-of-factly, "I think Oscar still feels jealous of Jessica sometimes."

Peter cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked. "Well, that's all right then. But seriously, those Wallances really do complicate things, you know. I wish I could have brought Jess here – she can't stand Oscar having other siblings besides her. You could tell her how little Ellis means to you."

"I will if you want me to," returned Egon. He and his half-brother weren't separated by an entire ocean like Oscar and the Wallance kids were, but frankly they might as well be. "You could have brought her."

"No I couldn't," argued Peter. "She's busy. Ah, my poor baby," he sighed wistfully. "Right now it's her I feel most sorry for in all of this."

"Really?" Egon asked interestedly. "Why?"

x x x

"It's just a little idiosyncrasy of Mom's, ok?" Dana explained patiently. "She has to look at everything _at least _once before she can decide what to buy."

"_I _don't," retorted Jessica. "Aren't we here for me?"

"Jess, honey, will you please stop _whining_? I've already offered to leave you in the video arcade."

"Oh no you don't. I'm not falling for that one."

"Falling for what?" Dana asked innocently. "We're not trying to trick you."

"I don't trust you," Jessica told her firmly. "If I let you and Grandma pick out my _mourning dress_ you'll get something totally gross. I'm not even mourning – why do I have to dress down?"

"It's a wake," Dana returned irritably. "You just _have_ to."

"I didn't know her and even if I _did_ know her I wouldn't have liked her."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Duh! She was a Wallance!"

"So was I once upon a time," retorted Dana. "So is your brother."

"He is _not_!" Jessica argued loudly. "Just because you were dumb enough to let that man impregnate you doesn't mean Oscar has to pay for it."

"Jessica!"

"Will you two stop bickering?" Val Barrett suddenly interrupted. "Honestly Jessica, I don't know _where_ you learnt to talk to your mother like that."

"Grandma, we've been all over the mall like a bazillion times," Jessica moaned childishly. "Can we at least take a break?"

"I could really use a coffee, Mom," Dana added.

"All right," Val sighed impatiently, rolling her eyes. "If we _must_."

_My grandmother is insane_, Jessica thought twenty minutes later, as she sipped at a can of Pepsi and listened to Val going on and on and _on_ about the Wallances.

"It'll be nice to see Andre again," she twittered happily. "And that lovely Kate of his. I haven't seen her for years."

"Lucky you," Jessica chipped in.

"And how's William?" asked Val. "I haven't seen him since before the… you know…"

"_Divorce_," provided Dana, hoping that if she said it loudly enough her mother might finally be forced to admit that it had happened. "And William is _evil_."

"Is he? He always seemed like a very nice young man to me. And the children? Oscar tells me the older boy was here recently."

"I hate them," announced Jessica.

"Don't lie to your grandmother, dear," Dana smiled dryly. "You don't hate all three of them."

"I was only being nice to him because his grandmother was dying," argued Jessica.

"To whom?" demanded Val.

"Hayden," replied Jessica. "Kate and Andre's older son."

"Really?" asked Val. "How old is he?"

"Eleven."

"Ah."

"What does 'ah' mean?"

"Well," Val smiled serenely, "he's about the right sort of age to be your friend."

Jessica had to clap a hand to her face in order to stop herself from laughing Pepsi out of her nose.

"Why on earth wouldn't you want to be his friend?" asked Val, looking suddenly wounded on Hayden's behalf. "From what I remember he's a very nice boy."

"Well yes," agreed Jessica, "but - "

"And you got on all right the last couple of times he was here."

"I know, but he - "

"And I even seem to remember that he's quite an attractive child," Val persisted. "I remember thinking that he looked like Andre when he was a little younger."

"He still does," Dana informed her. "He looks _exactly_ like Andre with a smaller nose and Kate's shampoo commercial hair. He's actually really sweet."

"Well then." Val looked imploringly at her granddaughter. "What's the problem?"

"If you like Hayden so much," retorted Jessica, "why don't _you_ be his friend?"

"Well he's a little young for me, dear."

"It wouldn't work," Jessica insisted. "Mom was friends with his father once upon a time and look how _that_ turned out."

"Well Jessica, you aren't your mother and Hayden isn't his father," Val pointed out reasonably. "It might be different this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?" Jessica asked suspiciously. "You _don't_ want me to _marry_ him."

"Not tomorrow, honey," Val assured her. "I just think it would be nice if you and Andre's son could be friends."

"Why do you have such a boner for Andre anyway?"

"Jessica!" exclaimed Dana, horrified.

Fortunately Val didn't know what a boner was. "I have always liked that family," she told Jessica. "I was very sorry when your mother and Andre split up."

"So now it's up to me and Hayden? No offence, Grandma, but you're insane. If you think I'm gonna - "

"Jessica," Dana interrupted sharply, thrusting a small wad of dollar bills towards her daughter's chest. "Go and buy yourself a snack."

"Why? What are you gonna talk about while I'm gone?"

"Just do it."

Jessica shrugged the whole conversation off and then did as she was told. While she was queuing up for snacks at the counter, Dana turned to her mother and hissed, "What the hell are you playing at?"

"You've met Jessica's friends, dear," Val answered coolly. "I see nothing wrong with encouraging her to associate with someone like Hayden Wallance."

"You haven't seen Hayden recently, have you?" Dana remarked dryly. "He's changed."

"Into what?"

"A human being."

"Must you talk in riddles, Dana?" her mother sighed impatiently.

"You're determined to see a successful Wallance/Barrett union, aren't you? Why _do_ you have such a boner – um – such a liking for the Wallances?" asked Dana.

"They're a nice family, dear. I think their influence would do _that_ one a lot of good," and she nodded towards Jessica. Then she lowered her voice and whispered furtively, "Dana, while we're here, will you persuade her to get herself a decent… you know…"

Dana looked blank. "No, Mom, I _don't _know."

"Dana, don't be difficult. She's a pretty girl – or at least she could be if she tried – but she'll never get noticed if she straps herself up like that."

"Oh, I see," Dana said cautiously, wondering where this was going. "Sports bras are very practical, you know, and Jess says they're comfortable. And why would you want anybody to 'notice' your twelve-year-old granddaughter? Oh, wait a minute – would this be for Hayden's benefit?" That was actually quite a disturbing thought.

"I just think it's about time she realises that she wasn't born a boy."

"Mother, she's twelve. She can be friends with who she wants and play as much soccer as she wants and wear whatever kind of bra she wants. Ok?"

"But she - "

"She's _my _daughter."

"She's _Peter's_ daughter. Andre would never raise a daughter like that."

"So?"

"Oh, Dana… _why_ did you divorce him?"

"_Because he went to live in f---ing London_!"

Jessica had been walking towards them with a half-eaten cookie in her hand, but she veered off to the left and went to a vacant table as soon as Dana made this announcement to the entire clientele of the café.

x x x

_Oscar was back in LA. He was standing at one side of a pathway in the middle of a cemetery where his parents used to take him and Jessica for walks when they were little. The headstones adorning the pathway on either side were exactly as he remembered them. It was almost pitch dark and the air was filled with a thin mist as far as the eye could see. The place looked cold, but Oscar wasn't aware of any kind of temperature, nor of any tastes or smells. He was only aware of what he could see and what he could hear, which at the moment wasn't much. Andre was there, just standing, looking almost tortured._

"_Oscar," Andre began imploringly. "I'm sorry about everything that happened. I love you and I want you to come and live with me."_

"_What?" exclaimed Oscar, astonished. "No! I… I don't want to!"_

"_Why not?" Andre asked desperately._

_Oscar didn't hesitate to give the honest answer: "Because I don't like you."_

"_Oscar, please!" begged Andre. "Give me another chance!"_

_The mist was thickening and, even though he'd been in that cemetery a-hundred times before and knew every exit, Oscar just _knew_ that he couldn't leave. He was doomed to stand there and listen to Andre begging him to go home with him – possibly forever. If he wanted to get out of there, he had to agree to go to England._

_Then suddenly Oscar heard the sound of a car engine. He was greatly surprised by this – it was impossible to manoeuvre a car where he and Andre were standing. He turned and saw the brilliant glare of headlights getting rapidly nearer and nearer. The relief he felt on recognising Peter's car was overwhelming. Interestingly Dana was the one behind the wheel; Peter sat next to her, and Jessica was on the backseat beckoning more frantically than either of them for Oscar to get in. He did, of course, not looking at Andre. He buckled his seatbelt just as Dana pulled the car into gear and headed for the nearest exit. As they were about to leave the cemetery, Oscar looked behind him out of the rear windscreen. Andre was standing there, in the dark, the mist surrounding him, looking sad and dejected. Oscar didn't really care; he was just grateful that his mother was driving him away from there._

x x x

Oscar obtained permission on Friday afternoon to miss his last class in order to go and meet the Wallances at JFK Airport. He wasn't looking forward to it. He had no idea in what state he would find them. As it turned out, they emerged from the crowd in the airport lobby all looking sombre, though in different ways – or at least that was what Oscar thought. His seven-year-old half-sister Emilia was either very tired, she had been crying recently or both. Her ten-year-old brother Lars looked his usual impassive self, though perhaps a little more down-in-the-mouth than usual. Oscar sometimes worried about Lars. Either he never felt any emotions, or he simply didn't express them.

Hayden really _did_ look tired, and a little sad, but Oscar sensed that he was also relieved to be here for a funeral this time instead of waiting for somebody to die – and presumably he was glad to have his mother with him. It occurred to Oscar that he still didn't know exactly what had been troubling Hayden. Maybe now that Elizabeth was gone he could find out.

"Hello, darling," Kate smiled weakly, throwing her arms around Oscar's neck and treating him to a powerful whiff of perfume and shampoo. "I'm so sorry."

Oscar was about to ask why, what had she done, and then he realised that she was offering her commiserations for his grandmother's death. He didn't know quite how to respond – he couldn't very well be honest and say, "Well actually, I didn't even really know her so I'm not that fussed – thanks all the same." He couldn't think of anything suitable to say instead. All he could think was that now he knew what it took for Kate to turn down the volume on her voice a little bit.

"Hey, guys," Oscar said quietly, stooping to hug Emilia, feeling ridiculous because Kate's subdued tones had made him feel that he had to whisper. "How are you doing?"

He heard Emilia sniff and she bunched a fist on his shoulder, gathering the fabric of his sweater into her hand. Andre put two hands on his daughter's shoulders and said, with a weak smile at Oscar, "Pretty much what you might expect. Thank you for meeting us."

"That's ok." Oscar rose to his full height and asked, "So do you wanna get out of here or what?"

"Actually," ventured Hayden, "I'm dying for a pee, and after that I could really do with something to eat."

Once everybody who needed to had made use of the airport's facilities, Kate somehow managed to get Oscar on his own in the café – he found himself queuing up at the counter with her while Andre and the kids waited at a nearby table.

"My poor babies – they're _so_ upset," Kate confided to him. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Everyone says it'll get easier," replied Oscar. "I think you'll just have to stick it out until you get home, and then things will start getting back to normal."

"Oscar," Kate whispered furtively. "May I confess something to you?"

"Um… sure." Her tone of voice convinced him it must be something terrible.

"I hated her."

"Really?"

"I tried _so_ hard to get on with that _bloody_ woman," Kate told him, her jaw clenched as she was suddenly overcome with about fifteen years of suppressed anger. "But she couldn't _stand _me. Oscar, do you know _why_ she couldn't stand me?"

"Um… no."

"Because I'm _not Dana_. You know I like your mother, darling, but frankly Elizabeth liked her a little too much – at least before she and Andre split up – and ever since I married your father I have been compared to Dana in every minute detail. They're all the same – the whole bloody lot of them liked her more than they like me! The funeral's going to be a bloody nightmare – I don't even know why I'm here."

"You're here for your husband and your children," reasoned Oscar.

"Yes, you're right, I am," agreed Kate. "Oh God – I can see it now! They're all going to be glaring at me and blaming me for every tiny bit of unhappiness she ever felt because her life would have been so much more bearable if I was Dana."

"That's ridiculous," remarked Oscar. "Aren't you the person that made Andre happy after he divorced Mom?"

"Tell _them_ that!" shrieked Kate, almost making Oscar jump back in alarm. "It was obvious that Elizabeth and I didn't like each other – imagine how welcome I'm going to be at her funeral. I'm telling you this because I know you don't exactly feel… well… part of the family, as it were."

"You want me to hold your hand at the wake?"

"Yes please. I'd just like to know I have an ally."

"Actually I think _I've _been getting some bad vibes lately as well," Oscar confided. "Specifically from William."

"William?" echoed Kate, laughing slightly. "Darling, don't worry about William – he's just strange."

"Oh, right."

This ended the conversation, as they were finally at the front of the queue. Oscar had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and he knew that he'd continue to do so until the funeral on Sunday. He desperately hoped that once the Wallances were home, things would go back to normal for both of their families. But he just couldn't stop thinking about Andre's sudden persistent need to hug him, and that dream was still very much on his mind.

x x x

Despite it being six o'clock in the evening, all three of the Wallance kids were sufficiently tired to go to bed, as their bodies hadn't adjusted and as far as they were concerned it was eleven o'clock at night. Oscar stayed with them until they crawled into bed at six, after which Andre invited him out for a cup of coffee. Oscar was so surprised his jaw actually dropped, but he quickly recovered and found he didn't have the heart to refuse.

"Thank you," said Andre, once they were sitting on a _Friends_-style squashy sofa drinking cappuccinos. "For everything you've been doing, I mean. You really don't have to – not after… well, how things have been."

Oscar didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry," Andre went on. "And I'm _really_ sorry about William. I know he bullied you into hosting the wake at your stepfather's house, which he can't be too thrilled about. Nor your mother and sister, come to that. How _is _your sister, by the way?"

_I can't have heard that right_. "Um… she's ok."

"Good. I'm told she helped Hayden out a lot. I must remember to thank her."

Oscar couldn't help himself. "Are you _serious_?" he exclaimed.

"Well," Andre shrugged dismissively, "anybody who can cheer him up that much can't be that unsuitable a friend. Look, I heard Kate mention William's name while you were queuing up in the café with her. I don't want you to worry about him."

"I don't."

"Good. Because he _is_ my brother – that's the only reason he blames Dana for what happened between us."

Completely inadvertently, Oscar let out a snort of derision.

"I hope you understand that we had problems before you were born," Andre continued carefully. "I think we were both to blame for those. We both tried and we both failed – there wasn't anything either of us could do to stop it. But I didn't have to go all the way to London. I'm sorry I left you."

"Are you?" Oscar asked, surprised. "Do you regret going to London?"

"Ooh," flinched Andre, "that's a horrible question. I regret marrying Dana and I'm _so_ glad I married Kate… but given that I _did_ marry your mother and you were… well, I'm just sorry I wasn't a better father to you."

Oscar had to hold onto his coffee cup for the sake of something to do with his hands, but he couldn't put it anywhere near his mouth for fear of choking on it. This was all too much like the dream – only the cemetery and the atmospheric mist were missing. And even if he hadn't had that dream it would all be _too weird_. Oscar had always been convinced that Andre just _didn't like him_, simple as that. Where the hell was all of this coming from? And where had it been for the last seventeen years?

"Anyway, there it is," Andre surmised, with a weak smile. "Maybe after all of this is over and the kids get back into it again… we could talk about it some more?"

"Um… sure." He had absolutely no idea – not even the tiniest fraction of any kind of clue – what he was supposed to say, do or think.

"Can I see you home?"

"Sure."

"Great."

They took a cab. It was almost eight o'clock when it reached Oscar's home. Oscar got out of the taxi, but almost climbed back in and screamed "Drive!" when he realised that Andre was getting out too. But he managed to restrain himself, and then suddenly his Nikes became glued to the ground as Andre walked around the cab towards him, an arm held out in some sort of gesture.

"Thank you again," Andre smiled weakly. "And… I really am sorry."

Reflexes are fascinating things, and extremely useful for one's own protection. If a fist flies towards your face, you duck. If an insect takes a fancy to your eyes, you shut them. If you pick up a hot plate, you drop it instantly. But this was a new one on Oscar: if your estranged father tries to kiss you on the cheek, you reel backwards and duck almost to the ground.

"Uh… bye," Oscar mumbled awkwardly, turning on his heel and practically running to his front door.

Once safely inside, Oscar took a few moments to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. His breath came to him easily enough, but his thoughts didn't, so he kicked off his shoes and tried to forget what had just happened. He wandered into the sitting room, and was surprised to be greeted by a chorus of hysterical laughter.

"What?" demanded Oscar, staring in surprise at the three friends that had evidently been waiting for him.

"It was just so funny to watch," giggled Ella Stephens, dramatically miming Oscar's expert ducking of his father's affections, and the hasty retreat that had followed.

"It's not funny!" Oscar protested, laughing despite himself. "It's _weird_! Why do this now? And why do it at the exact same time as he's pushing Hayden away?"

"Stop," Danny Hart ordered sternly. "You're not allowed to think about that. Jess tells us you've been acting like an old woman lately, which is why we're taking you to a club."

"A club?" echoed Oscar. "Oh guys, I can't…"

"Don't start that," snapped Tim Price. "We've cleared it with her parents – we're picking Amy up on the way. A little second base action could be just what you need. You can use the van if you like."

Oscar glanced out of the window. How had he missed Tim's grimy old van just sitting at the side of the road? Andre must be messing with his vision as well as his mind.

"We didn't clear _that_ with her parents," Ella said dryly, in response to Tim's remark. "Come on, no objections – we're taking you out."

x x x

As it transpired, a night out _was_ exactly what Oscar needed – but only in the short run. He got home early on Saturday morning and slept for most of the day, and consequently he couldn't sleep on Saturday night, which meant that he was dead on his feet for the funeral on Sunday. He had to try very hard not to yawn during the eulogies and all the parson's pieces, whatever they meant.

Oscar wasn't religious, he didn't know the deceased that well and the sobbing people on all sides made him feel uncomfortable. He sat at the aisle end of a pew right at the front, Andre on his right, Hayden on Andre's right and then Emilia, Kate and Lars. William, his wife and their two teenage daughters were occupying the pew directly opposite. Oscar tried hard not to look at them, very aware of the baffling mutual resentment filling the air between himself and his uncle. He wanted to look at Kate, but he thought it was probably just as well he was unable to do so. He knew she wouldn't be enjoying this much, and if he caught her eye he'd feel compelled to pull a face or something like that, and then they'd both be stifling laughter. Kate Wallance, like everyone, had her faults – but she was a very nice woman and Oscar _did_ like her. He reflected as much now, realising that she was probably comforting Emilia and possibly Lars as well, if a funeral was what it took to make that kid cry.

Briefly Oscar wondered about Hayden and how he was feeling. He risked a surreptitious glance to the right, which was when he noticed that Andre was blinking back tears. He'd never seen Andre in any real state of emotion before, and Oscar became even more uncomfortable. Leaning forward slightly he managed to get a look at Hayden, who was staring rigidly straight ahead, his left hand twitching slightly. He was obviously feeling uncomfortable too, and wondering whether to offer his father some kind of comfort. He continued in this manner throughout the remainder of the service; his hand never left his lap the whole time.

Oscar did not attend the burial. He went home ahead of the rest of the party, joined hurriedly by Kate, Hayden and Emilia just as he was leaving. He couldn't help thinking that they all looked strange in black – it wasn't a colour any of them wore often. They were a very _clean_ sort of family and tended to wear pristine, pale clothes. Jessica had once said that she thought they looked "ironed", to which Oscar had laughed and agreed whole-heartedly.

Oscar deliberately hadn't made much of an effort: he'd just thrown on a shirt and a pair of black jeans that didn't have to be jeans if you didn't look closely. In contrast, Kate had stayed true to form and really dressed up, right down to one of those ostentatious hats that look like a fencing mask, or possibly a mosquito net – Oscar couldn't quite decide which it most resembled. He wondered if she was making a statement to Wallances everywhere, dead or alive: _I am part of this family whether you like it or not and I'm dressing up for this thing_! Or something like that, anyway.

"I _really_ don't want to go to the burial, pet," she told Oscar. "And neither do these two. Ok if we come with you?"

"Of course," agreed Oscar, throwing an encouraging smile at the two kids. "What about Lars?"

"Lars?" Hayden snorted derisively. "Lars wouldn't go to the burial if I was. He's disowned me."

"Really?" Oscar asked confusedly.

"Don't be silly, Hayden," scolded Kate. "They've just had a few disagreements lately, Oscar – you know how siblings do. So anyway, are we walking?"

"Dad lent me the car," replied Oscar. "Come on – it's just round that corner."

"All right, Em?" Hayden asked kindly, taking his sister's hand as they followed Oscar.

"I wish I'd gone with you to see her," Emilia mumbled quietly.

"Oh darling, you don't," Kate said gently, putting an immaculately manicured hand on the top of her daughter's neat, fair head. "I don't think it would have helped. She knew you loved her – that's what counts."

"Your dad gave her your love," added Oscar, gallantly opening the back door of the car for his little half-sister. "She never forgot you."

"Honestly, _you two_," muttered Hayden, when Oscar had shut the door on Emilia.

"What?" Oscar and Kate asked in unison.

"I _know_ you didn't like her," said Hayden, not unkindly – he was even smiling a little.

"I liked her ok," argued Oscar.

"Mum hated her."

"Was it that obvious, darling?" Kate asked sheepishly.

"Well… pretty much," Hayden admitted. "But that's ok – she _was_ your mother-in-law." He opened the car door and climbed onto the seat beside his sister. "Have you ever been to the New York house, Em?"

"I don't think so," Emilia answered quietly.

"It's a lot like the LA one."

"I don't really remember the LA one."

Oscar and Kate exchanged a small smile signifying fondness for those kids, mutual thanks and comradeship as they climbed into the front of the car. They were both feeling intimidated by the nearby crowd of Wallances who claimed both the blood link and the family loyalty that Kate and Oscar could only comprise between them. Each was grateful to have found an ally in the other.

x x x

"Why in God's name am I preparing finger food for Elizabeth Wallance's wake?" Dana demanded irritably, as she wiped tomato juice from her hands.

"I imagine you're doing it for Oscar," Peter smiled dryly. "Ah – speak of the Devil," he added, as the front door clicked open. Then, as he caught sight of Oscar's three companions: "Oh. Hi."

"Hello, Peter," Kate smiled warmly, giving him one of her famous all-engulfing hugs. Peter was used to that from Kate: she greeted everybody like her favourite relative. "I hope you don't mind me hiding here with these two for a bit. Children and burials… you know."

"Of course," Peter nodded his understanding. He liked Kate well enough – she was so nice and so blameless that he just _had_ to like her – and he didn't mind having her in his house while she was without her husband. And he liked her kids ok too.

"Hey." Jessica suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and started to make her way down. It seemed that she and her grandmother had reached a compromise on the "mourning dress": she was simply wearing black trousers and a sweater. They all noticed that her hair looked strangely neat: the curls seemed to have softened and gained a subtle shine. Hayden watched, mesmerised, as they bounced along with her movements as she made her way downstairs.

"You look nice," he ventured.

Jessica pulled a face. "You think so? You would not _believe_ the amount of stuff Grandma put in my hair. Besides shampoo and conditioner there was moisturiser and revitalising something-or-other and stuff to make it _bounce_, for crying out loud…"

"And anti-frizzing serum!" Valerie Barrett's voice called from an upstairs room. "You should use it every day, Jessica!"

"Sorry," Jessica half-smiled at Hayden, rolling her eyes. "She's omnipresent – you'll be seeing a lot of her today. So… how was it?" she asked, toning it down a bit.

"Pretty miserable," Hayden confessed.

"Yeah?" Jessica smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

Hayden was pleasantly surprised when she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was a kindly gesture of sympathy and platonic almost-friendship, but for a moment Hayden was only aware of the feel of her soft brown curls brushing against his cheek, and of her breasts pushed up against his chest. He returned the embrace out of politeness, encircling his arms around her waist, but it made him feel strange. He was having a reaction he didn't recognise – he somehow felt compelled to hold her closer and yet at the same time he wanted to push her away, just in case he accidentally did something he shouldn't.

It was Jessica who ended the hug, and Hayden felt slightly disappointed. He was then uncomfortably aware of four astonished pairs of eyes on both of them: Oscar, Peter, Kate and Emilia were all utterly astounded by the sight of Jessica hugging a Wallance. As for Jessica, she was almost sorry Val hadn't seen it. She would have loved to see her grandmother's reaction.

Oscar then fed Sheryl Crow to the CD player (he thought she was neither too cheerful nor too depressing for a funeral) and gradually the house started to fill with Wallances. When William turned up with his wife Jane and his daughters Anastasia and Francesca, the whole place seemed to darken. It was at this point that Jessica started to wonder what in God's name she was _doing_ there. Couldn't she have arranged to visit a friend or something during all of this? She glanced around the crowded sitting room in search of an ally. Oscar was chatting to Kate so _he_ was no good. Val was there too, her husband Gerald standing meekly at her side as she talked animatedly to some Wallance or other that Jessica didn't recognise. She then looked around for Dana, and was appalled to see her conversing with Andre. Jessica automatically scanned the crowd of faces for her father's, wondering if he had noticed his wife talking to her ex-husband and what his reaction would be. But she couldn't see him anywhere. He must be hiding. Now _that_ was an idea…

Peter was in the kitchen, taking hearty swigs from a can of beer, when Jessica found him. "Dutch courage," she remarked dryly, going over to the fridge and locating a strong drink of her own.

"Jess!" exclaimed Peter, his eyes widening in alarm as she popped the beer open.

"What?" she shrugged dismissively, putting the can to her lips and throwing her head back. "It's not like you've never given me booze before."

"I only did it once," argued Peter, "when I knew there was no danger of your mother walking in at any moment."

"Cut me some slack, will you?" his daughter snapped irritably. "I've got chemicals in my hair making it look like cotton candy and my home is full of Wallances. I'm in my own personal _Hell_! And besides," she added, with another shrug of nonchalance, "Mom's not coming in here. She's too busy talking to Andre."

"She's _what_?" Peter expostulated.

"Calm down," Jessica said soothingly. "They're just talking. His mother just died."

"That doesn't mean he isn't an asshole."

"No, but it _does_ mean we have to be at least a _little _bit nice to him."

"I thought you of all people would be on _my_ side," retorted Peter. "You and I are the only people in this house who never have been and never will be Wallances."

_I think Grandma would like to disagree with you there_.

"Have you _seen_ the way Andre's simpering all over Oscar?" Peter went on, his voice rising almost to a squeak. "He keeps… _touching_ him – I can't stand it."

"He's going to England in the morning. He won't be able to reach him from there."

"And what were you doing all over his kid, anyway?"

"_What_?" Jessica asked confusedly. "Oh come on, Hayden's all right. I hugged Josh and Seb when their grandmothers died – this is no different."

"Sure it is," argued Peter. "Josh and Seb aren't Wallances. They're trying to steal you – all three of you. Andre wants Dana and Oscar back and Hayden wants _you_."

"Have you been talking to Grandma?"

"She keeps going on and on and _on_ about how 'sweet' you and Hayden are together."

"Ah-ha. And are you drunk?"

"I don't think so." It was only now that she detected the slight slur in his voice.

"Give me that," ordered Jessica, snatching the half-empty beer can from her father's hand.

At that moment someone walked in. Jessica was momentarily alarmed at the prospect that the new arrival might be her mother, but she breathed out when she saw that it was only Kate who had caught her clutching two cans of beer, both with some of their contents missing. Kate looked at her for a moment, her expression unreadable, then suddenly she let out a sigh of relief and exclaimed, "Brilliant! Can I have some of that?" Then, without waiting for a reply, she snatched the can from Jessica's left hand. "Sorry Peter, if this is your personal stash, but it's an emergency."

"Have as much as you want," Peter offered generously. "In-laws are a nightmare."

"You want to try having _that_ lot for in-laws," Kate returned heatedly, in challenging tones. "They all hate me. They all think I'm _completely_ inadequate. I think William bullied Oscar into letting us have the wake here to get at _me_, you know."

"Oh yes?" Peter asked interestedly.

"Mhm," Kate nodded vigorously, dramatically pulling open the fridge in search of more alcohol. "Because _Dana_ is now playing host. _Dana_ made the food. _Dana_ is so _bloody_ perfect that she's hosting that _bloody_ woman's wake because quite obviously _I'm_ incapable!"

Jessica wondered whether Kate was pissed already, or just pissed off.

"You should have heard the lecture I got from Dana's mother before you got here," complained Peter. "I mustn't upset _Andre_ because the sun shines out of his ass _and_ his mother's just died."

"Really?" asked Kate, her expression suddenly softening. "Does _your_ mother-in-law give you a hard time too?"

"Oh for God's sake," muttered Jessica, rolling her eyes and retreating hastily from the growing atmosphere of newly discovered allegiance.

Dana was still chatting to Andre, and with Kate's departure to the kitchen, Oscar had joined them. To Jessica that just looked plain _wrong_. She marched over to the little gathering, stepped between Oscar and Andre and said emphatically to her brother, "_Dad_ and _Kate_ are getting _pissed_ in the _kitchen_!"

"WHAT?" Andre and Dana exclaimed in unison.

"It is _too_ weird," Jessica went on, still addressing Oscar. "Can you go and stop them?"

"Already taken care of," Oscar smiled dryly, for Dana and Andre were at that moment fleeing from the room.

"Andre's a total pig," remarked Jessica, not for the first time in her life. "Doesn't he let Kate drink when she wants to?"

"Sure he does, but after what happened with Mom I think he's a little afraid of losing her. He doesn't want her drunk and alone with the man who married his _first _wife."

"Dad wouldn't – not even for a ditzy blonde who's all boobs and no brain," Jessica opined. "How old is Kate anyway? She looks younger than Mom."

"She _is_ younger than Mom," confirmed Oscar. "Ten years younger, in fact. She turned forty last month."

"Wow," marvelled Jessica. "So Andre's a cradle-robbing perv as well as all the rest of it."

"He never even _tried_ to rob _my_ cradle," Oscar pointed out. "He wants me to go out with him this evening. I'm half expecting him to ask me to go and live with him or something."

"You wouldn't go, would you?" Jessica asked urgently, her green eyes widening in alarm.

"Of course I wouldn't go, you div," her brother returned scathingly. "I don't know _what_ he wants to say to me – but whatever it is I'm not looking forward to coming up with a spur-of-the-moment response. Y'know Jess, I sometimes wish I had your sheer disregard for other people's feelings."

"Not other people. Just Wallances," Jessica told him calmly.

"Except Hayden."

"Why is everybody suddenly so obsessed with how I treat Hayden?"

"Just an observation," shrugged Oscar. "I'm sorry about this, Jess. I know how you feel about Wallances and now I've filled the entire living room with them."

"No need to apologise, Oscar," Jessica sighed resignedly. "You can't help being a total pushover."

x x x

It was getting dark and the house was starting to empty. Jessica was astonished to find Hayden in her bedroom, staring out of the window at the dull orange sky. She walked over to him, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the thought that she might find him in tears. She didn't. He was just staring, showing no sign of any emotion.

"Sorry," he said blankly.

"What for?"

"Hiding in your room."

"Oh… It's ok." She wondered why on earth he had picked _her_ room and not Oscar's – or the spare, come to that. "What are you hiding from?"

"I dunno. The whole situation, I suppose."

"You'll be home tomorrow," Jessica reminded him.

"I know," Hayden responded blandly. "Have you ever seen the stars?"

Jessica was momentarily taken aback. "_What_?" she exclaimed, pulling a face. It was like a bad movie!

"Have you ever seen the stars?" Hayden repeated patiently.

"Sure," shrugged Jessica. "You can see them from Uncle Alf's farm."

"Uncle Alf?"

"Oscar _must_ have told you about Dad's Uncle Alf."

Hayden nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from the window. "Yeah… I _must_ have seen them – it's not like we've never been out of the city. But I don't remember."

"Hayden… I don't know what to say to you. You _know_ I'm sorry, and you're probably sick of hearing it anyway."

"Not really. It helps."

He was talking like a robot. Jessica almost worried that he was going slowly mad. Carefully she asked, "Are you gonna be ok?"

For the first time since she had joined him, Hayden looked at her. His blue eyes were sad, which was only to be expected, but Jessica sensed something else there that she couldn't quite read.

"I'll be ok," Hayden assured her. "It's something we all have to go through, right? And at least she died old. I wish she hadn't suffered," he went on quietly. "I just had to get away from that lot. They all kept saying, 'Well at least she's not suffering anymore.' It was getting _right _up my nose." He was talking more animatedly now, some of the sadness giving way to a kind of indignation. "She died of old age. She didn't _have_ to suffer, but they're all trying to make me feel better by reminding me that she _did_. I don't think it would have been any harder to lose her if it was sudden. It just would have been easier for _her_."

"It's really hard to know the right thing to say," Jessica said quietly.

"I don't think there's any such thing. They're all trying. _You're_ all trying," he corrected himself. Then suddenly he asked, "What do you think happens to you after you die?"

"I think you become a ghost," Jessica answered at once. "Your soul hangs around after your body's gone, and if you cause too much trouble my dad or someone comes and shoots you and traps you and puts you in a storage facility in the basement of an old firehouse."

"Jessica, that _really_ doesn't help."

"I said if they cause too much trouble. You don't think your grandma will cause trouble, do you?"

"She might haunt my mum," Hayden smiled slightly. "They couldn't stand each other."

"Where _do_ you think she's gone?" asked Jessica.

"I dunno."

"My answer was better."

She smiled at him, and he actually felt like smiling back. It was strange to be having this conversation with Jessica Venkman of all people – somebody that Hayden always used to admire almost as much as she hated his guts. Her hair had somehow got back to normal, and he found he preferred it that way. Untidy hair was just _her_. He really wanted her to hug him again. He remembered the feel of her breath on his neck, and wondered how she would have reacted if he'd moved his hands down a little from the small of her back. With a slap round the face, he decided – almost definitely. These were really scary thoughts he was having. Hayden came to the conclusion that he really _did_ need to get home, and away from Jessica. He thought that she had become something of a symbol to him: he had always envied her freedom, and her unashamed and effortless ability just to _be herself_.

"When I get home," he told her slowly, "I'm going to ask Dad again to move me to a different school. A _normal_ one with normal people in it who understand me. All I really want is a friend. Maybe even more than one."

"Like whole a rugby team of them?" Jessica smiled wryly.

"Exactly."

"If you want to play rugby you shouldn't let anything stop you. If your dad gives you a hard time just go and join like a weekend club or something. There _must_ be somewhere you can play rugby in the whole of London."

"Yeah, there must be," agreed Hayden. "I don't know if I dare. Is that what _you'd _do?"

"Totally."

She would too. Hayden shook his head in amazement and admiration, murmuring quietly, "You're…"

"What?" demanded Jessica.

Suddenly Hayden started to laugh. "I don't know," he said. "Something."

"You've gone crazy."

"Yeah. It actually feels really… what's that word I want?"

"Creepy?" Jessica suggested.

"No." Hayden flapped his hand around dismissively. "_Liberating_. I've suddenly got this feeling that things are going to work out ok."

"Must be nice."

"It _is_!"

Hayden was remembering a visit to New York back in February, when Jessica had first started to tolerate him. He remembered some advice she'd given him: _"If there's something you wanna do, do it."_ His mother would be wanting to take him back to the hotel soon – he'd need his sleep for the flight home tomorrow. He probably wouldn't see Jessica again until sometime the following year. He _did_ want to do something, and he had nothing to lose by doing it.

"Thanks," he smiled, suddenly taking her into that hug he wanted. "For everything."

"What's everything?" Jessica asked nervously, feeling strangely unable to relax into their second hug.

"Oh, you know… the chat, the hug, the advice, the film… all that kind of stuff."

"Oh. No problem."

He couldn't believe how much she'd grown up over the last year or so. His arms fit snugly into a small kink just above her hips. He could feel her breasts close up against his chest again and he suddenly couldn't think of anything else. He _really_ needed to get away from her.

"Hayden!" a shrill voice suddenly cut into his thoughts. Moving back from Jessica, he saw his mother approaching the doorway. "There you are, darling. Are you all right?"

"Just saying goodbye," Hayden told her. "I'm fine."

"That's good, darling." Kate walked over to her son, ran her hands over his neat blond hair and kissed him. Then she suddenly took Jessica into a crushing embrace and said, "Thanks for cheering him up, pet. We'll see you soon, ok?"

"Will you?" asked Jessica, trying not to sound too appalled by the prospect.

"Soon as we can, darling – promise. Come on, Hayden. Your father and Oscar are just leaving."

x x x

"Where do you want to go?"

Freezing his nuts off in the middle of Times Square, where Oscar _really_ wanted to go was home. But he'd just come from there – it seemed silly to nullify the journey.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I'm really not bothered where we go."

Andre looked vaguely around him in search of inspiration. "What about Pizza Hut?"

"Fine."

Andre must have been hungry. Oscar hadn't seen him eat anything all that day. Perhaps that was normal for someone who had just buried his mother.

"Will you come and see us in London soon?" asked Andre.

"Sure," shrugged Oscar. "Well… if I can. It might not be until the summer. We don't seem to get as many school holidays as you do in England."

"Your summers are much longer."

"Yeah."

They both knew that they hadn't journeyed to neutral ground for this. Oscar didn't know what to say. Andre had engineered the situation, he presumably had some kind of aim in mind and he had to be the one to make the first move.

"I really _am_ sorry, you know," he began carefully. "I don't know why I never really felt much for you. Is… it ok for me to say that?" he asked carefully.

"It's no secret," Oscar shrugged dismissively.

"It was different with Hayden and Lars and Emilia. I love them more than…"

_Anything_. Somehow, Oscar could just tell that he hadn't almost said "you". _"I love them more than anything."_ That was what Andre wanted to say, it was obvious, but for some reason he seemed to think it might upset Oscar.

"I never should have married your mother," Andre went on. "It was a mistake. You…"

"Were a mistake too?" Oscar suggested helpfully.

"No!" Andre exclaimed quickly.

"Ok," Oscar returned coolly, feeling for the first time in years of tap-dancing around the important stuff with this man that _he _was the one in control. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I'm a jerk," Andre suddenly announced. "I must be or I wouldn't have left my son, especially not when he… _you_ were still a baby."

"But you don't love me," Oscar said carefully. "You're not about to beg me to call you Dad or anything."

"No, I'm not," Andre confessed. "But I feel guilty. I thought… maybe… we could try to be friends."

"Because you feel guilty?"

"Because you're my son."

"So you're doing this because you think you ought to."

"Oscar!"

"What?"

"Stop being difficult."

"Ok, look," Oscar began carefully. "For the last seventeen years, you and I have just been going through the motions. Well… less than that for me… but even when I was three I felt like I _should_ be at your wedding even though I really didn't want to be. I like Kate and I like the kids, but you… never really seemed to make the effort. Where has all that" – he spread his hands towards Andre in a gesture encompassing everything the man had just said – "been for the last seventeen years?"

"I don't know," Andre confessed. "I don't know where it's come from now either, but… well, there it is. I want to try."

"Really?" asked Oscar. "You actually _want_ to?"

"Yes."

"Right." He took a moment to think. "You're not my dad."

"Ouch," remarked Andre.

"Well, you're not," Oscar said reasonably. "I love my dad. I _really_ love him. I don't think I could be any closer to him even if I _was_ his blood. You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes. It's obvious."

"And I still think it sucks that you left me. But as long as you're not trying to be my dad, and if you really are sorry - "

"I am."

"Then I think I'd like to try and be your friend."

"Good." Andre's face broke into a smile of relief.

"Andre… now that we're _friends_" – _ah crap_ – "can I give you some advice?" Oscar asked carefully.

"Um… sure," Andre agreed.

"Don't get so wrapped up in trying to be _my_ friend that you end up alienating the three kids you _haven't_ lost. You told me Hayden was having some problems. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember."

"He never _did _tell me what was bothering him," Oscar went on. "But he's not happy, and not just because Elizabeth has died. It wasn't hard for me to tell. Could you?"

"Yes," Andre confessed. "I could. I even know more or less what's wrong… unless there's something he hasn't told me."

"Do you know how to help him?"

"I think so."

"So _do it_!"

Andre sighed. "I don't want…"

"What?" Oscar demanded sharply. "You don't want to help him?"

"He wants to switch schools. We put his name down for that place when he was five – that's how long the waiting list is. It's a good school. I just want my kids to get a good education."

It was obvious, but Oscar knew he was going to have to spell it out. "Hayden can't get _any _kind of education if he's miserable," he said patiently. "He's not _you_. None of them are. You need to step back a bit and let them make some of their own choices."

"They're kids."

"They're old enough to know what they want. Especially Hayden."

They were silent for a few moments.

"Well that's my advice," Oscar said at last, beginning to stand up. "I hope for your sake _and_ your son's that you take it. I'm going home."

"Oscar!" Andre called out, as his oldest son passed him and walked towards the exit, abandoning his half-eaten pizza.

Oscar looked back. "What?"

"Are we ok?"

"Show me you can treat your kids with the respect they deserve," retorted Oscar. "_Then_ we'll talk."

As he watched Oscar disappear into the night, Andre hoped nothing would happen to him. The kid was seventeen and he could look after himself, but if anything _did_ happen Dana wouldn't hesitate to blame her despised ex. Andre's thoughts suddenly seemed to crash into one another when that one popped in there. He even had a selfish reason for hoping that his son wouldn't be killed walking home. He let out a small sigh of frustration. None of this was going quite the way he had hoped.

x x x

Oscar lay back on his bed, relaxing in the cleansing tones of the Manic Street Preachers, and wondered why he felt so confused. What had really changed? His parents still loved him. Andre was still a dick. Kate was still loud and pretty and incredibly nice and somehow managed to look nearer thirty than forty. His grandmother was still unbearable, but in an amusing kind of way. His sister still felt more like his brother than Hayden or Lars did. Hayden wasn't happy. _That_ was different. _That_ was what he was worried about. Too bad Hayden was going back to London and Jessica couldn't cheer him up with a movie every day.

_Jessica_, Oscar suddenly thought, beginning to turn names slowly over in his mind like a washing machine at the start of its cycle._ Hayden and Jessica. Andre and Mom. Andre's son and Mom's daughter. My half-brother and my sister. Oh, wait – _half_-sister…_

_Oh my God…_!

THE END


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